Operation Teleportation
by lemony-freshness
Summary: Zim's plans always seem to fail, but this isn't just any plan, this is THE plan! Will it really end in Earth invasion, or will it be a disgraceful mess? What do you think?
1. Battle Cry

Hi, this is my first fic in a _long_ time.  
I'm really sorry if the formatting is kind of weird...that's really just how I write. >. ;;;  
Rated T because I really think you need to have a higher vocabulary to understand some of the phrasing.  
So...enjoy!  
**I do not own Invader Zim**  
------------------------------------------------------------------

The world existed in a pink wash this afternoon.  
A pink wash of _utter madness, _and quickly descending **DOOM**!  
But I'm getting slightly ahead of myself, or rather the story.  
**Prepare yourselves!  
**----------------------------Battle Cry  
It was a normal day, filled with normalcy that comes in the form of cold stares, the horrendous screech of prodding laughter, and, of course, disgusting, flying cafeteria food. The status of society's mentality is overwhelmingly assuring.  
Oh. the. humanity.  
This pessimistic attitude enveloped more than just the general mood of most high-level intelligent beings. Another felt, _feels_ the same.  
He knows far more than the average human child, but not quite enough for him to succeed in most, _any_ of his endeavors.  
Zim sits in Ms. Bitters's class as he has for unproductive months, hell, unproductive _years_, and he stews.  
He stews about this botched invasion. This wasted life.  
_My tallest are correct in penalizing my failures_, Zim thought, focusing not upon the current lecture on the gestation period of Ecuadorian fighting crabs, but upon the aged abrasions on his desk top, _but now I will work all the harder to have a truly successful and impressive invasion of these homo-sap-iens, with their smelly emotions and their ETERNAL INFERIORITY TO THE POWERS OF ZIM!  
_He immediately pulled out the insignificant human paper that contained his great plans of glory and honor. These humble pieces of loose leaf were barely substantial enough in awesome-ness to be even in the running for consideration of use for his magnificent, ultimate plan for the swift usurp of human kind's place on the Earth.  
But, Gir had blown all of this week's human currency of tacos, and this was easier than actually finding paper worthy to hold his plans.  
Zim grinned devilishly and thought that anyone would be hard-pressed to find a planning method worthy of _this_, his best solution to absolute dominance ever.  
He became absorbed in his scheming, pink eyes growing bright behind the masking contact lenses, bright with a fervid insanity that had become familiar to him since the very first day of his smeethood. This was _why_ he was an invader, for _this_ feeling.  
Oh, how the senseless quadrupeds displaced around him in their swamp of humanity would beg for mercy when the very realization of their destruction would dawn upon their feeble, pea-brained minds, all brought about by he. No, not beg, how they would wheedle upon him, how they would cry to the heavens of their plight, how they would lament and moan and _scream_-  
Screaming, screaming, ringing, ringing of bells.  
The bell had rung.  
The bell that dismisses all of the Earthen stink-monkeys to the mass feeding known as lunch.  
That bat-like female teacher-human was glaring at him expectantly.  
Zim blinked, and then darted out of the empty classroom, heading toward the cafeteria with his plotting in tow.  
Lunch began.  
Just like lunch always begins.  
The brainless student body milling about in their little groups of common interest, before sitting down and shoving all manner of germ-ridden Earth food down their ever-gaping throats into their insufficient stomachs.  
Oh. the. humanity.  
Zim looked about him at the caterwauling, prepubescent children.  
Serious plots of destruction, like the one he was so delighted with now, were usually best left under wraps in the cafeteria room, for the very same yapping human spawn that surrounded him now always seemed to find a way to ruin his planning of plans in the worst possible turns of fate.  
But perhaps one peek, just this once, wouldn't do any harm.  
No! The risk was far too perilous in this human feeding trough.  
But he was so eager to do just a little more planning, to once more immerse himself in that gratifying feeling of malevolence!  
His gloved hands twitch in eagerness, and after a few more quick sideways glances, his hand slowly drew out the carefully laid series of actions, captured upon paper from their protective bag that had once only known a scant few school supplies and Earthling fast-food.  
Here was his magnum opus, the one plan that would truly impress his tallest and grant him respect among the name of invaders.  
His eyes glazed over with a feeling that might have been like an Earth mother's love as he took in the plans once more. The supremacy of this plan to all of his other failed ones was so great, so entirely all encompassing, that he could not help but feel that this plan truly was an act of genius and his one great-  
"Hello Zim. Whatcha got there, a plan to destroy Earth?"  
Zim's contacts unglazed as quickly as a drop of water disintegrating from thin air at an earthen mile distance from the sun, and his eyes were quickly squinted shut in suspicion and aggravation, for it was _that_ who had interrupted his adoration of the plan, and ultimately himself.  
The Dib-monkey.  
The human who had plagued Zim every step of the way of his invasion stood before him in those ridiculous dark clothes, with his hair styled in that idiotic way that it had been since the Irken had seen the boy, all agrin because he had "caught-the-alien".  
"Leave my presence Dib-filth. I am not in the mood for your cat-and-mouse shenanigans, nor do I have the time," Zim snapped coolly before turning back to his plans, shifting them from the sight of Dib.  
"Okay."  
"Not! Do you actually think I would leave you alone when you asked? I am not stupid Zim, I know you're up to something," Dib accused. "You keep saying that, and still no one believes you. What, are you afraid that this time my plans for your insignificant school companions will cut their frivolous little lives short?" Zim questioned, cocking an eye and mugging evilly. His Irken tongue longed to jerk out and lick his lips in contempt. But let's not get too cocky.  
Dib scoffed, "Please, if I was ever worried about you destroying Earth, it was long ago and for the briefest of moments. You're too dense to even take over a grocery store, much less the world." And all the while the little gnat kept buzzing around Zim to catch a glimpse of his precious plan as if he were a fly.  
A _human_ fly.  
That had a nice ring to it.  
Zim shook his papers straight and, once again, moved them from Dib's sight line with a cool ease, "Even if this was the ultimate mother load of genius-ness that has ever graced my mighty mind that manifested itself into this plan, _you _would not be able to stop me _human_."  
Okay, that was obviously a sign to act.  
Dib knew that Zim's one true downfall would always be his unchanging opinion of his dominance, but this was a different kind of self-assurance exhibiting itself before him.  
Dib actually thought he saw _malice_ in Zim's eyes.  
This plan was really something.  
If he could not have it, research and find a way to reverse it, there was something else he could do that would slow down, if not bring the confident Irken's scheming to complete and utter halt.  
He could destroy it.  
Dib darted upon the table that Zim sat at, plunged his right hand into a passing girl's cream of artichoke-loaf, and flung it across the room into the back of an unsuspecting foot ball player's head, screeching the age-old battle cry of adolescents and teenagers alike:  
"**_Food fight!"  
_**----------------------------------------------------------  
So end of chapter one.


	2. This Life Just Isn't My Day

I really liked how I could just keep Ms. Bitters as the teacher, that's the beauty of Invader Zim.  
It all makes sense.  
I do not own Invader Zim, and I know a lawyer...so...be _afraaaaaaid_.  
...  
I really don't like cafeteria food. >.

-----------------------------------This Life Just isn't my Day

Zim had no idea what the crazed human boy-child had in mind when leaping upon the school-owned  
lunch table, he had learned long ago to stop trying to decode human actions, for they often had little, or nothing,  
to actually do with what was going on inside their heads.  
Once those words, those peace disturbing, destructive, devastatingly drastic words were voiced, the Dib-monkeys plan was clear.  
Everything seemed to slow down as seconds stretched into agonizingly vast spaces of time, where detail ruled with a sharpness to the overall image, where every shape and form had its viscosity. Zim could do nothing, absolutely nothing to stop the occurring events. And he knew it.  
Oh. the. humanity.  
Dib grinned as his target reacted to the surprise of a cafeteria food drenching.  
The great lump of a child reared up on its two legs, spine curved in an agony highly exaggerated, mouth open and issuing a stream of cries to voice his disgust and distaste with the turn of events, eyes wide and staring, rage brewing behind the insufficient pupils of the human race. This was the face of barbarity that was common to the hallways of this educational facility.  
The victim of the first thrown food artillery submerged his hand into a substantial mound of chipped beef and kidney pie, digging up a good handful to teach the punk who had dared cross him a lesson, and with a gross creaking of bones and muscle, the bullet was launched at its mark, Dib and all of his immediate surroundings.  
The combination of disgusting meats flew through the air. Flew, flew, flew, flew. Sailed across the cafeteria.  
Dib stepped lithely out of the way, and the fetid grouping of malodorous meats planted itself neatly on the head of a honor roll student before imploding and spraying the entire cafeteria with its stench and slime.  
There was a pregnant pause.  
And then all hell broke loose.  
Several more choruses of the phrase "Food fight!" were yodeled across the room as all manner of inedible foodstuffs were gathered together and loosed across the writhing mess of warring humans.  
The pupils of Zim's contacts contracted almost into the verge of nothingness as a putrid sphere of pulsing noodles and goose liver mashed itself onto the right side of his face, inflicting an immediate and intense burning, through his veins and to the very end of his feet.  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! OH THE BURN! DEATH! BURNING DEATH!" involuntary screams freed themselves from his mouth as Zim burned under the human food.  
A small part of his still-sane mind told himself to worry about the plan, the plan! The plan was worth so much more than these few seconds of pain, he needed to shield the plan for the plan could not shield itself!  
Dib, meanwhile, continued to aggravate the jock, earning several fistfuls of heart of pig and lima bean salad, as well as a rather large helping of dessert, corn cobbler with a tomato-like paste as garnish.  
Zim clamped his mouth shut, his hands hooked in claws, but nevertheless traveling quickly forward to put his planning back into its place of safety.  
After a few rounds of butt-wiggling and tongue poking, Dib earned the largest flying ball of food yet, an infinitely huge and fast moving mass of rotten broccoli and a topping that was unmistakably the already-chewed texture of cottage cheese.  
It moved surprisingly fast for something its size and consistency.  
Zim saw the food bomb as well, yet his hands moved no faster to save the plan.  
If anything, they moved slower.  
As if through a thick congealment of molasses.  
They grew closer, ever so much more closer, but the food ball and its unholy super speed beat them to it.  
Dib evacuated his former spot moments before the food ball, food _bomb_ exploded outward upon the table surface. He was sprayed with a fine mist of cheese broccoli, but the fall of his image mattered little to him now, for his wounds of the great food war were miniscule in comparison to those of Zim, and more importantly his plans.  
They were massacred; there was not a chance of salvaging them from the mess. In fact, it was kind of hard to tell where the table began and they ended.  
His work here was complete.  
Dib grinned triumphantly and strutted from the room to clean up, just as teachers rushed in to stop the quarreling students with their riot fire hoses.  
Zim sat, not even blinking as children around him screamed in both glee and fear as the massive pressure being issued from the hoses splayed them upon the wall without a chance in the world of moving. Zim soon joined them, his skin burning anew, yet all he could do was stare at the his desecrated plans, ripped and covered in water now, tearing under the pressure. Zim was silent in his desolation.  
Well, for a few seconds I'm sure.  
Once the powerful jet streams were turned off, and children started filing aimlessly back to their respective classrooms, still dripping from the events of the lunch-gone-wrong. The Irken traversed the length of the cafeteria quickly, heading towards the outdoors to evaporate the burning water still upon him, causing him to twitch with every painful step.  
Feeling slightly regenerated, thanks to the rays of the sun, Zim shook himself all over, vacating every little drop of H2O from his skin. It was only then that he could recall the thought process necessary for this moment.  
Most of his stay on Earth was much like this. He would scheme and plan for months, then finally perfect _the_ plan to destroy these grubby little beings that plagued him, and then they would be destroyed, dashed upon the rocks of reality by some little technicality or turn of luck for the humans.  
Oh. the. humanity.  
He should not dwell on this now. He cast about for the real matter that should be rationalized at this moment.  
The plan.  
Zim considered the state of his plan.  
It was ruined beyond repair.  
The rips were numerous and great in their length, despite the heavy hosing, there was still a mass of congealed cottage cheese around the edges, and the whole mess was soaking with the water used to repel the students.  
He _had_ been foiled again, no doubt about it.  
And it was all the Dib-human's fault.  
He would pay for crossing him this time.  
Oh how he'd _pay_.  
The class was receiving a lecture on the general decline in childhood behavior for the third time this week when Zim walked into class, eyes squinted in anger and body rigid in a rage. He did not sit in his desk, as much as he threw himself at it, giving the people who had dared look a sour expression of loathing.  
Ms. Bitters was undeterred however.  
"Zim, why weren't you in class promptly after the lunch hour?"  
"I was removing the stench of your kinds monstrous eating substances from my body," Zim shot back, glaring plainly at the woman.  
"Well, while you were cleaning up, the rest of the class was learning," Ms. Bitters sneered, clearly growing impatient with Zim's attitude.  
"Learning? Is that what you call what goes on in here? I'm sorry but I was under the impression that this was a head trauma ward and all of the children here are in a state of comatose so great that they are beyond even elementary learning," Zim retorted, observing his gloved hand for a spell before shifting his gaze to the quickly angering woman.  
"There will be no more of that sass young man, or else you'll join the children in the underground school," she threatened, clearly about to return to her lecture.  
Zim scoffed, "Psht. Underground school? Please, what do you take me for?"  
Ms. Bitters pulled a lever and the floor below Zim's desk disappeared, and if not for Zim's Irken reflexes, he may have as well. He stared wide eyed at the hole before it quickly closed off, putting a damper on the pleas that had begun to issue from the hole as soon as it opened.  
"Now, will you kindly _take your seat_?" she hissed, "or else next time that hole may lead to a bed of spikes tipped with poison rather than the underground school."  
The class roared with laughter as Zim quietly sat back in his seat.  
_Today just isn't my day_, he thought.  
The gratifying dismissal bell rang true and children clamored to leave the building holding them prisoner. They used all exits, even made new exits, all to free themselves from the tenuous hold of the building of lower level education that some would be doomed for what could be most of their pre-teen lives.  
Zim trailed behind the mob, his bag no longer in a position of reverence and prestige, restored to its station of just another grimy old school bag, worthy only of carrying school supplies.  
Zim looked to the heavens, perhaps searching for Irk among the dark clouds in the sky, changed drastically from the cheery heat that had been dispersed among the neighborhood at the lunch hour. He lamented the loss of his plans in all of their perfection. He was experiencing a feeling as close to sadness as any Irken had ever felt.  
Oh. the. humanity.  
The forlorn mood was spoiled by raucous laughter emitted directly from behind him, injecting itself into the very pit of his mind and shaking his sense like an over-zealous gambler's roll in craps.  
"You look so sad it's almost poetic. How rich!" Dib chortled, barely able to stand, his fit of laughter overtaking him.  
Zim's eyes creaked back, the human in his peripheral vision. Oh how he wished he could kill him. Simply _squeeze_ the life out of him. How rich _that_ would be.  
"Leave me Dib. You have caused enough damage for today, but not enough to nullify Zim entirely," his voice fluctuated in the nuances of his challenge. He half-believed himself.  
He really was good.  
"Oh please! You've been saying things like that for years now. You're _never_ going to invade Earth Zim," Dib mocked, voice filling with disdain and his mouth curling up in a smirk of iniquity.  
Zim's eyes snapped shut. He didn't have to take this. He would just go back to the house and watch television with Gir. Then perhaps he could forget this mishap.  
Dib continued to harangue him, "Your leaders must be really dense Zim, if they sent _you_ to invade Earth. You can barely keep up with the school teacher's insults and threats, much less those of an entire planet, aimed against your goal."  
"You're a disgrace to your kind Zim."  
"You're going to die here on Earth a failure and your race will wash its hands of you."  
"You truly disgust me Zim."  
The words were so painful. So much more painful than before. He should not be allowing this to happen.  
These things _weren't_ supposed to happen.  
Not to him.  
He whirled around, ready to loose a few insults of his own, but Dib plowed ever on.  
"Your whole planet is probably as lame as you. I bet that even if you're whole planet was here at your disposal, you couldn't conquer the human race," Dib exclaimed in a fervor of malice, these insults were really good. He was on a roll!  
Zim opened his mouth to comment on any number of things, his arm outstretched in a gesture of accusation, his eyes flashing with vindication.  
And then he stopped.  
His eyes closed in contentment.  
His mouth slowly shut, and then twitched into a smile.  
The smile grew into a sneer of pure evil.  
"Dib-monkey, you could not take on my entire planet if you were a million times as smart as the most intelligent person on this ball of dirt you call home," Zim said darkly, that evil sneer on his face all the while.  
He turned and walked away, the disturbing little smile never leaving his face.  
_And maybe there's a way to prove it little Dib-let_, Zim thought, a new plan forming in his head.  
One that put the old one to shame.  
_Very_ much so to shame.  
------------------------------------------

fake excitement OMG! What couldZim be planning!  
w00t!


	3. Free Hamster to a Good Home

WARNING: Very short!  
heh heh, it's for "effect" I promise!  
lemony-freshness does not own Invader Zim

--------------------------------------(Free Hamster to a Good Home)

There was a small _whooshing_ sound as Zim descended into the core of his house, down to the depths where his lab was located.

He was quite sure this time that he would succeed.

And oh how he _would _succeed!

It was so deliciously _evil_, this new musing of his, and with every passing second he was adding to it, forming more details and connecting them to his wondrous _new_ plan, the plan that would bring the human race to its knees.

The plan that would prove once and for all to that annoying Dib-human that he was superior in both brains and advancement to the sniveling little earthling.

His descent was complete, and now he only had to walk to his computer before beginning to undertake his awesome stratagem.

"Hiya Master!"

A high-pitched squeal echoed across his base as the little metal robot rocketed to greet him, tongue out and cyan eyes flashing in excitement.

"Gir, I need you to listen to me carefully. I am about to transfer the most _extreme_ plan to the computer, and I need you to sit quietly so that I may concentrate," Zim ordered, logging into his computer.

Gir's eyes flashed red, "Yes master, I obey!"

And then returned to their normal cyan, "Operation Hamsteration loading full capacity."

"No Gir, Operation Hamsteration is dead to me now," Zim explained, fingers moving frantically over his many keyboards.

Gir looked slightly downhearted at that and cried, "Aw man. What are we going to do with all those hamsters?"

Zim waved his crazy little robot's question away, "I don't know Gir, feed them to the computer or something, I'm too busy with my new plan:"

"Operation Teleportation."

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I don't like this chapter. >.  
Too much dialouge.  
haha.  
Preview from Chapter 5:

"Tallest Red, I have a plan to invade Earth-" Zim began.  
"Yeah well what else is new?" Red asked in a biting tone.  
"-and I need your cooperation, the cooperation of all of Irk."  
Red stopped, and looked at the screen quizzically. "Why?"

ooooOOOooo suspenseful.


	4. Planning and the Back Way

Th plot thickens!  
I really would like some reviews please.  
I do not own Invader Zim.

-----------------------------------Planning and the Back Way

In the depths of miles upon miles of machinery pulsating dimly with a dark iridescence, separate from the humming of working equipment there is a steady stream of clicking. Click after click after click after click, the clicks growing rapidly closer together, meshing maddeningly into one long source of sound.

_clickclickclickclicklclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick._

There came a squeal.

"Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

_pause_

"Gir, what does 'keeping absolutely silent' entail?"

_silence_

"The total absence of all noise, even Gir!"

"Then why are you still talking?"

_clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclicklcickclickclickclickclick!_

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmm…..I dunno!" Gir exclaimed, then promptly did a handstand and made a zipping motion over his mouth.

"Thank you Gir, keep it up and we can have tacos tonight. Yes, there will be a taco feast of such a grand proportion that it will be remembered for a year and a day," Zim muttered, the words his mouth was letting past his lips not computing in any sound receptor gland. He was in that invader mood again, and slowly the world was losing its clarity, all was fading except for the computer screen in front of him.

_clickclickclick._

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!" Gir abandoned his silence and immediately rocketed off of the ground and zoomed around the facility, screaming his elations all the while.

Zim did not hear.

Zim was gone now.

clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICK!

Gir might have tended toward the more mischievous thoughts that came with the programming of all SIR units, even he, as dysfunctional as he is, had Gir been able to read just what it was his master was so feverishly typing.

On the screen there was a great mass of typing, paragraph after paragraph of the Irken language that no human could ever decipher. All of these letters, words, phrases, entire _pages_ of script were a complex series of equations and programming language, not too unlike the earthen binary system of zeroes and ones.

The first monstrous block of text-like instructions were a series of commands and orders of what the author wanted, and had the computer's responses on things that could be done, things that couldn't be done, recipes for waffles, and virtually _anything _that could help the outcome of the mission. The overall answer, a seemingly insignificant line of script with no distinguishing mark except for a small flashing light answered whether the vast piece of programming, that would attain the overall goal, could be done.

It could.

The second, even larger block of text and characters that could have been numbers were a set of rules and guide lines for the actual equations that coded each miniscule step in the execution of the plan, and the equations themselves for many actions. There was formula after formula, laws, theories, new concepts combining both the novel and the old into something barely certain, barely _real_. Unthinkable things occurred in these lines of otherworldly mathematics, the defiance of gravity, the change in reality, the jerking of bodies from place to place with a vicious brutality, all of the products, the solutions, of this one master plan.

The last sequence of alien language was not as long or tedious as the first two. This was the result of the planning and factoring combined, this was the plan step by step, as close to English as it would ever get. If one could read the language they would see that the plan was preceded by a little scribble of domestic records, a diary.

_--Log_

_I have thought that many of my plans have been 'the one', but never have I had a feeling as profoundly AWESOME as this. That 'superior' feeling that I'm sure the tallest feel all of the time has come over me more strongly than ever before, and it calls to me. The credit for the idea of this plan, ironically enough Log, should go to that stupid human Dib, but I'm not that gracious. ;D __The Earth and its hanger-ons shall feel the wrath of the entire Irken army when I am done with them! MWUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!_

From there came the plan, the plan that had assured Zim before it had even been fully hatched that it would put all of his other plans to shame. Contained in the mass were things like, theories of light-speed and the telekinetic movement of objects, the transportation of things place to place using only a cold energy that could only be translated to "Arakeen", and oddly enough, Isaac Newton's laws of relativity. These were the very bases of the plan, these were what defined it in its place of evil.

Zim stepped back from the computer, eyes quickly reading what you or I could not, admiring his handiwork before reaching out with one hand, a hand that once would have shielded what is now a trivial piece of paper from harm, and pressed a single button.

"DOCUMENT DELETED!" declared the computer in a foreboding voice.

It was done.

The first step of the plan commenced rapidly.

A little disk popped out of a slot in the computer. Zim grabbed it as if it were nothing, and opened a communication line with Irk.

The screen blipped once or twice before bringing up an Irken soldier, looking quite harried and annoyed.

"Where can I direct your call?"

"I must speak with my tallest," Zim said coolly twiddling the disk between two fingers.

The drone's hand went to push a button, but stopped. She shoved her face up to the screen, plainly inspecting the caller. After a few moments, her eyes widened with incredulity, "You're that one invader aren't you? Zim is it?"

Zim cocked an invisible eyebrow, "I suppose you may have heard of me."

"The tallest are in a meeting right now, but even if they weren't, they'd never talk to you!" the drone smirked, "Disconnecting."

"WAIT!"

The screen went black.

Zim slumped, his shoulders hunched in defeat.

This always seemed to happen.  
He swung his head up and quickly opened another connection line and conducted a quick search before beginning a rapid series of typed commands. Somewhere in the lab a small grinding sound began issuing from one of the machines.

He was taking a back way.

Zim was really lucky that Tallest Red loved video games.

----------------------------------------------------------------  
WHAT COULD IT MEAN!  
Haha!  
I was hoping I could freak people out with the "DOCUMENT DELETED" line, I hope it worked. P  
I have Ch. 5 written, but the quickness I post it with will be dictated by the amount of response I receive.


	5. Operation Teleportation

Due to the overwhelming feedback (I'm being serious here, two reviews gave a such a feeling of elation that I couldn't shut up about it for days ), I decided to put this up. Unfortunately I have some very severe writer's block Oo, so I'm not sure when chapter six is going to be up, much less what it will be about. .  
I still want reviews. .  
I do not own Invader Zim.  
Now, onward!

---------------------------------Operation Teleportation  
The soldier glanced upward, setting his blaster into the 'ready' mode, and aiming for the guard on the wall, pulled the trigger. A silent burst of energy erupted from the weapon and the opposing soldier feel from the wall without even a scream of pain, landing on his neck with a sickening crack that echoed across the pavilion.  
If anyone heard that, he was dead.  
_Literally_.  
The opposite side of the pavilion was his goal, if he could make it there, then his mission would be accomplished. But there was a problem. With no cover, the moon shining brightly with few clouds in the sky, and fifty more guards in lieu of the one dead, he could not even hope to sneak by unobserved.  
He would have to make a break for it.

He readied his blaster, and made sure all of his protective armor was at its full capacity, and waited for the guard on the east quadrant to turn his back.

_Now_.  
He made a break for it. For the first few nanoseconds of his sprint he was unnoticed, but within a blink of an eye a barrage of multi-coloured bursts of heat and bullets were fired upon him. With a rolling flip, he managed to bypass the bulk of the shots, but some hit anyway, ricocheting from his armor with a sizzle of electricity.  
His stamina dropped a notch.  
He gritted his teeth and plowed onward.  
He was almost in the clear! One foot in front of the other, he grew closer to the other side of the pavilion, nothing in his way.

Until a great creature landed in front of his, and roared with a mouth filled with uncountable rows of needle sharp teeth.  
The soldier didn't falter though, as he drew himself up, cocked his blaster and fired, the creature roared, "_I WILL EAT YOUR LIMBS FROM YOUR SCREAMING BODY!_"  
A compound energy blast exited from the barrel of the blaster, and the creature surged forward,  
and-  
"My tallest?"  
The screen was filled now, not with an immense roaring monster, but with the face of an invader _very_ well known to the tallest.  
It was Zim.

Tallest Red threw down his control and glared at the screen with a great amount of hatred on his face and snapped "What Zim? You interrupted the final battle of my game. _What?_" This was one of the rare occasions he got to stay in his luxurious quarters, and his downtime had been interrupted by_ this_ horrendous excuse for an invader. "My apologies Tallest Red," Zim said plaintively, "but this will take only a moment of your time."  
"How did you get in there? I'm disconnecting you right now," and Red began to fiddle with some dials on the back of the monitor. Zim's picture blurred and flashed, but did not disappear entirely.  
"Tallest Red, I have a plan to invade Earth-" Zim began.  
"Yeah well what else is new?" Red asked in a biting tone.  
"-and I need your cooperation, the cooperation of all of Irk."  
Red stopped, and looked at the screen quizzically. "Why?"  
Zim took a breath and continued, "I will send you my plan in full before telling you where I could use your help, and I hope you'll see how truly ingenious I have become." Zim inserted the little disk that held his plan, and Tallest Red became a smaller square among the lines of his plan. Likewise, on Red's side of the conversation, Zim had been reduced to an in-picture screen, while line after line of elaborate equations scrolled ever onward on the descent to the actual plan.  
Red scrutinized the mathematics to the plan, using his joystick to scroll past what he had already read. When he got to the actual phrasing of the plan, his scarlet eyes grew wide with wonder.  
"Did the computer check these equations out?" he asked, almost breathless.  
"Yes," Zim replied.  
"Even with the calculation of coincidence/resistance/competition/apocalyptic change factored in?" Red inquired, quickly scrolling to parts of the plan that he thought would be wrong.

But they weren't.

None of it was.

Everything seemed to check out.

And it was _Zim_ who had created it.  
"Hold on a second," Red mumbled, and he made his way toward the door to his room. He opened it and motioned to a guard down the hall. "Yes Tallest Red?" the soldier asked, saluting the leader. "Go get Tallest Purple and bring him to my quarters," Red commanded,  
"He'll want to see this."  
Purple's reaction was a little less, _restrained_, than that of Tallest Red's.  
"There is no way that's even possible," he cried in disbelief

"No _fucking_ way!"  
"Pur control yourself," Red said in an undertone, "one moment Zim," and with that Red turned off the monitor that just minutes ago had displayed his favourite video game, and now showed a scheme that might very well affect all of Irk if they allowed it to. Zim was still connected though, via the rouge port he had rigged up, and he was waiting.  
"What are we going to do Red? What _can_ we do?" Purple asked, sounding a little panicked by the immensity of what was being presented to them. "How the heck should I know? We never expected to be confronted with such a monumental plan by Zim! Skoodge maybe, but never that invader reject we left for dead on Earth!" Red exclaimed in both frustration and worry.  
It was times like this that being tallest became tedium rather than a privilege.

Purple chewed on his bottom lip before musing, "Well I suppose we could inform our lieutenants and then prepare a portion of the armada-"  
"You don't actually think we can go through with his plan do you?" Red interrupted. Purple looked confused and responded, "Why wouldn't we? Are you suggesting that we abandon such an astronomically time-saving plan, that requires little-to-no contribution from ourselves but approval?" "Pur, this is Zim we're talking about. If we did approve of his plan then we'd be risking the armada!" Red explained, clearly seeing the snags that could happen exemplified in all of their destructive power.  
"But the computer checked it out-"  
"Well what if the computer's wrong?"  
Purple laughed, and it sounded unnatural and forced, "The computer can't be wrong Red! It's Irken, even if it is old. And as far as computer's go, shouldn't the Control Brains be handling this dispute? My head is starting to spin."  
"If I think the computer has overlooked something, couldn't the Control Brains overlook something as well? Some sort of flaw in our technology?" Red said, trying to convey to his co-ruler and companion the deep uneasy feeling he felt from his antennae to the tips of his hovering feet. Purple laughed once more in that unnatural way and said, "Oh please Red! You think that just because Zim comes up with a totally awesome foolproof plan that there might be a flaw in Irken technology? Wouldn't it be more likely that that idiot of an invader just happened to coincidentally hit upon a genius plan by accident?" Red scoffed and muttered under his breath, "Now who's being illogical?" Purples eyes narrowed uncharacteristically smaller and he replied, clearly annoyed, "If you're too chicken you can just admit it."  
His friend and fellow tallest stared at him, jaw dropped before bursting into a loud and rather rude fit of hysterics.  
Red just couldn't believe the irony of the whole situation. _He _a chicken and _Purple_ not! Of all the gall! He never though the day would come when his docile little cry-baby of a friend would call him a chicken! Oh the irony of it all.  
Purple crossed his arms, growing more annoyed.  
Red tried to curb his amusement, "I'm s-sorry, P-Pur, just, the very _idea_ that _I-I_ w-would be a ch-ch-ch-chicken, and _you_-" and he was off again, laughing harder than he ever had. Purple put his hands on his hips, irritated with his comrade's behavior. He said, "Well if you could show a little more _focus_," Red snickered at that, "and actually pass some judgment, then maybe we could go back to what we're _supposed _to be doing, which is relaxing."  
Red fought off another bout of cruel, yet innocent laughter. When Purple wanted to chill, sure he was the world's most intense guy, but when a battalion of Resistance ships were firing on The Massive, he was a whimpering puddle of tears. "Alright," Red replied, a little more seriously, "we are going to run this plan past the Control Brains, not once, but five times, and make _absolutely sure_ there is no tactical error, and even then we're going to check the Control Brains after for any virtual bug they may have." Purple smiled relieved, "Finally you see reason! And you have to admit, it sure is a great plan!"  
Red sighed, "Yes Purple, it's a hell of a plan."  
On Zim's side of the universe things were quieter and with less debate. Zim knew they would come to accept his plan eventually to not would be asinine and fraudulent with debauchery and stupidity. He was glad that he could finally get one mark of excellence with the tallest, for with one occurrence of earned respect came things like trust, loyalty, and untold privileges. Zim sat for quite some time, hours passed until it was almost time for him to return to that wretched education prison, when his screen blipped, before focusing into a picture of both Tallest Red and Tallest Purple. "Zim, we have decided to cooperate with your plan, but only if a few changes are made," Red stated, Purple standing beside him, and the three Control Brains visible in the background. "Name it my Almighty Tallest," Zim said with complete humbleness and servitude in his voice. "_We_ will call the shots, _we_ will initiate the plan, and _we_ will have complete and total control of aborting the plan at any time we wish," Red declared finitely, a thundercloud of severity obscuring his brow. "And," Tallest Purple added, "we want _all_ of the snacks on Earth."  
Zim hesitated, he had wanted this to be his operation, but with such binding restrictions he would only be able to control the smallest of things.  
But, if he played his cards right this time, perhaps he would finally be able to be known as an invader.  
"Of course my Tallest," he replied.  
"Then this discussion is over. We will contact you," Red said stoutly, reaching forward before the screen went black.  
Zim closed the open port between himself and the monitor in Tallest Red's bedroom, and then stretched. He quick, deleted a line from his plan, and retyped it to accommodate Tallest Purple's dictation. He would reenergize now, after such an effort-demanding transaction, and walked into the elevator that would bring him to the top floor of his house.  
Gir appeared beside him and chirped, "Sooooooooooooooo, how'd go?"  
Zim smiled sleepily, "It went well Gir."  
_"It went well."_  
The port of course was closed, but the computer was still on in a deep stage of hyper-sleep, the summary of the plan left displayed on the monitor.

If you were lucky enough to know the complex language of Irken, this is what you would read:  
_Oh the humanity.  
It is the humanity of humanity that will be its downfall. These creatures are dimwitted and slow, and have poor defense and offense systems, making it a place ripe for a sneak attack. Through particle displacement, I will transport a mere fourth of the armada here where they will be at my command, to totally obliterate all of human kind. Because of the complications of particle displacement, I will not so much be doing a displacement as a replacement. The fourth of the armada will be gathered on Irk, and instead of teleporting it into thin air, I will replace it with a great mass of something, the substance being a kind of a space-filler on Earth. So the end result will be my space-filler replacing the armada, and the armada replacing the space-filler. The question is, what exactly would be great enough to replace that fourth of the armada in volume and mass?  
**All of Earth's junk food.**  
_Oh. the. humanity.

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I missed the "Oh. the. humanity.", and was really happy when I got a chance to put it back in.  
And yes, I'm going to beg, please please please please PLEASE review!


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